


Recipe for World Domination

by IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Domestic Fluff, Grindeldore Holiday Exchange, Grindeldore Holiday Exchange 2020, HEA, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/pseuds/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis
Summary: It was the worst proposal ever:“I was thinking,” Gellert said over breakfast, “that we ought to get married…beforethe application deadline for Bake Off.”Gellert never would have bothered learning to bake if it hadn’t been required by his mad scheme for media supremacy. His marriage proposal sounded like just another part of the plan.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24
Collections: Grindeldore Holiday Exchange 2020





	Recipe for World Domination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Candyphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyphoenix/gifts).



> Happy Holiday Gift Exchange to Candyphoenix!  
> You requested something light-hearted - hoping that this meets the brief - after several false starts, the closest I could come was this absurd Gellert, who Albus adores but nevertheless likens to a cartoon villain, and who cannot for the life of him stop trolling his boyfriend.
> 
> (Rated M for the scene in the end note - the body of the fic is rated T)

“I was thinking,” Gellert said over breakfast, “that we ought to get married.”

_Ought to?_

“Is this… a proposal?” Albus asked uncertainly.

“If you like,” Gellert said. “Yes, a proposal. I propose that we get married _before_ the application deadline for Bake Off.”

Of course. This ‘proposal’ was only part of Gellert’s plan to put together the perfect contestant application for The Great British Bake Off.

Gellert had first mentioned the idea of applying to be a contestant on the show after Galatea’s baby shower, three months before. Gellert had made the cupcakes, and they were, as always, exceptional. These had been flavoured with Earl Grey tea and topped with honey-ginger frosting. Everyone had wanted the recipe. When they had gotten home, Albus had complimented Gellert, telling him that if he ever wanted to quit working at the magazine, he could open a bakeshop instead. Gellert had replied, ‘Professional bakers cannot compete in The Great British Bake Off.’

Albus had thought that Gellert trying out for Bake Off was a brilliant idea – Gellert was an excellent baker – no one would have known that he had started baking from scratch only five years ago. But then Gellert had continued with, ‘You become a bit of a public figure, and if leveraged properly, it could be a platform.’

‘Like a political platform?’

‘ _Politics?!_ No, politics are so _limited_. How much influence does an MP have, really? And they’re such polarizing figures. But Bake Off contestants? People feel like they _know_ them. They are relatable. Their appeal cuts across party lines. The show is popular here _and_ in America. I’ve been looking into it. More than a dozen former contestants have cookbooks – and some of them were eliminated as early as the fifth round! Winning is not so important – it has more to do with how popular you are with viewers, I think. So, there’s recognition, there’s publishing… and if I time it properly, I could produce my own cooking show on YouTube, put some additional exclusive content on Patreon... From there a more general talk show, which – that can become quite a position of influence. Media figures play a huge role in forming popular opinion. Just look at Oprah Winfrey in the States. Why would she ever run for _President?_ It would be a step down, really.’

Which had raised a number of questions for Albus. For instance, what exactly was Gellert’s agenda? Was he giving up on journalism as a dead end? And had he ever been interested in baking for its own sake? Or had getting onto Bake Off been his reason for learning to bake in the first place? When he’d ventured to ask a variation on the last question, Gellert had replied, in that patient tone he used when he meant to convey that Albus was being hopelessly naïve, ‘Baking is a lot of work, Albus. Time consuming, too. And the amount of extra exercising I have to do to make up for sampling the results… Why would I do this for fun, only?’

And Albus, in the tone that _he_ used when he was feeling insulted and a bit argumentative, answered, ‘You’re right, Babe. Why bother if it isn’t going to make you famous?’  
If Gellert had caught the sarcasm, he hadn’t mentioned it.

“You want to get married _because of Bake Off?_ ”

“You have to admit, the optics are better if we are –“

“You want to get married. Because of –“ Albus wasn’t sure whether to be furious or hurt or amused. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we just get engaged, and set the date for the week before filming starts? That way, if you don’t get selected, you don’t have to go through with it.”

“Albus, be serious. They’d be fools not to select me – I’m perfect. I’m gay, I’m photogenic, I have a bit of an accent, I perform well under pressure. If we add to this that I am happily _married_ to a stunningly handsome engineer…”

Albus made an exasperated noise. Gellert was undeterred.

“There will always be people who will not accept that I take what I have with you seriously unless I am married to you. You are more important to me than anyone, and I never want to give anyone any reason to doubt that.”

That was… better. Better-ish.

“The number of men giving me their phone number! I was out to lunch with the research editor last week, and our waiter stopped me on the way out – I told him I have a boyfriend, and he said, _‘boyfriends come and go.’_ ”

Aaaaand… back to worse.

This was the first that Albus was hearing of this _particular_ incident, but Gellert’s inability to go anywhere without getting propositioned was not news. One of Albus’ supposed friends at Uni had chatted Gellert up at a party – minutes after seeing Gellert and Albus emerge together from a single loo. And a bartender had once invited Gellert to ‘come back and see me after you’ve taken your boyfriend home’ – _while Gellert had his hands in Albus’ pockets!_

Albus was under no illusion that this was going to stop if they got married. It might slow a bit, but there were plenty of people who would not be deterred by a wedding band, and some who would find it a fun challenge. Particularly if Gellert were a bit of a celebrity.

“I would have taken offense on your behalf, but on the other hand – perhaps _you_ ought to take offense that I am still using this word _‘boyfriend’_ for you, when Vinda has used the same word to signify each of the dozen or so men that she has seen since we’ve been together.”

“So why not simply start calling me your ‘partner?’”

“That sounds like we are starting a business together. No. You want to marry me eventually, anyway, don’t you? Arguably, if we know for certain that we want to be married in the future, then we may as well be married today.”

“Today?”

“Well, not _literally_ today. Though why not? Why not _yesterday_ , if such a thing were possible? It is absurd that we have not done so already, when you think of the financial benefits we’ve been forgoing. Consider Bake Off a… catalyst, let’s say. An opportunity to re-evaluate our life goals, in advance of forming my public image.”

“This is the _worst_ proposal _ever_ , you _utter twat!_ ”

“It is a sensible –“

“Oh! Yes, sensible! ‘I will have a better chance of getting on a game show and winning a _cake plate_ if only my boyfriend were instead my husband! Without the cake plate, how ever will I _take over the world!_ ’ Well, I shall not be so _insensible_ as to say no to a scheme so _needlessly_ involved that it could have been the work of a _cartoon villain!_ As long as we’re making complicated plans, would you like me to build you a _yeast deactivating ray?_ Something I could aim at the tent from miles away to cause your competitor’s _dough_ not to rise?”

Gellert looked slightly chastened, but Albus suspected it was an expression he had learned to put on whenever Albus lost his temper.

“Is that a no?”

“No, it’s not a no!” Albus ranted. “Because I have absolutely _no_ self-respect –“

Gellert grabbed Albus and kissed him. Then he pulled a small box out of his pocket and got down on one knee, smiling up at Albus mischievously. He opened the box, revealing a gold band, elaborately engraved.

“This is better?”

“Fuck off!” Albus shouted, laughing. “You fucking wanker! You had a ring in your pocket this whole time?”

“I wanted to see how much you’d put up with. Too much, I’d say. But then, we’d never have lasted _this_ long if you didn’t.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Give me some better words to go with that ring.”

“I love you, Albus Dumbledore. You call me out on my mad schemes, but you never stand in my way. You wash the dishes at least four times as often as I do. And you give the most mind-altering blow jobs – eight years of having sex with no one but you, and I’m still not interested in anyone else. Remotely. And all of that makes the rest worth it, even the bit where I’m consigning myself to a lifetime of having difficulty getting to sleep, because you always fall asleep first, and immediately start making that whistle-y not-quite-snoring noise –“

“Gellert…” Albus warned, though he couldn’t maintain his frown.

“I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I’m not going to say ‘make me the happiest man alive’ because I’m _never_ going to be the happiest man alive, but I’m certainly the luckiest, because you know me, and you want me anyway. Marry me?”

Gellert did know how to step up when it counted. Albus felt slightly bad for doubting him, but mostly giddy with the conviction that Gellert really did mean it. _Gellert wanted to marry him._

“Yes! Yes, I will marry you. Get off the floor, you drama queen. What an absurd tradition!”

Gellert stood and sat in Albus’ lap. “You liked it,” he asserted.

“Show me this ring – are those feathers?”

Gellert hummed an affirmative. “It’s a phoenix,” he said taking it out of the box and laying it in Albus’ hand.

“You aren’t going to put it on me?”

“You asked to look at it! You said I was being absurd and dramatic! You can put it on yourself, if you want it, complainer.”

Albus examined the ring. It was gorgeous. He put it on his ring finger – it fit perfectly. Where could Gellert have found a ring like this? Engraved with a phoenix? And in his size?

“You – you had this made.”

“Of course! I won’t have you wearing some mass-produced ring. You are like nobody else – you should have something no one else has. It is lucky you are such a deep sleeper, so I could measure –”

Albus interrupted Gellert with a kiss. He held out his hand and admired the way the ring looked on his finger. _Married._

“You like it?” Gellert asked.

“It’s lovely. It’s perfect.” And it was, but Albus was feeling distracted. He gave Gellert a quick peck on the cheek and then nudged him. “I – umm – get off me? Please?”

“Off? But –”

“I need to – I’ll be right back.”

Gellert got up and Albus hurried to the bedroom closet. He looked in the pocket of his winter coat, then in a shoe box full of old photographs. Where was it? He shouldn’t have kept moving it around… Then he remembered. He took one of his winter boots off of the shoe shelf and retrieved the small box from inside of it.

Albus stopped as he approached the doorway to the kitchen. Gellert was washing the dishes. He had not been exaggerating about how seldom he did them. It was something he only did when he was feeling anxious, or inadequate, or guilty. It occurred to Albus now that he _had_ left the kitchen somewhat abruptly after Gellert’s proposal. Hopefully, Gellert would get over it quickly when he saw why Albus had gotten up.

“Hey, Babe,” Albus said quietly. Gellert turned around. So handsome. Those soft golden curls, those broad shoulders. Gellert’s eyes lit on the box in Albus’ hand, then flashed back up to Albus’ face.

“Albus? Is that – “

Albus stepped into the kitchen. “I had been meaning to save this until our anniversary…”

Gellert’s smile returned. He wiped his hands on a towel, and sat back down at the kitchen table. “ _Which_ anniversary? You know, it is eight years ago today that we met one another.”

Albus was stunned. Was that right? Was it the tenth of June already?

“You let me think the timing was all down to Bake Off. No! You _told me_ this was about Bake Off. But you would have –“

“It is not possible to be pragmatic and romantic at the same time?”

Was Gellert actually characterizing his Bake Off plan as ‘pragmatic?’ Albus shook his head and laughed.

Gellert continued, “So. You did not mean _this_ anniversary. Let’s see... In a week, we will have the anniversary of you kissing me for the first time, then later this summer we have the anniversary of you saying ‘I love you’ for the first time, then me a couple of days later, then it is right before school started back in session that we fucked for the first time – “

August 17. Which Albus only remembered because Gellert insisted upon celebrating it every year.

“I was – I was thinking about the anniversary of us moving in together. Our first night in our first flat.”

“That was – six years ago… August 1?”

“August 1,” Albus agreed. “Do I have to get on my knee for this?”

“It’s your proposal – do to suit yourself.”

Albus sat across the table from Gellert. He set the box off to one side and took both of Gellert’s hands in his. “I will never forget moving into our first flat together. Taking turns unlocking the door, each with our own key. Spending the night in a bed that was _our_ bed, knowing we wouldn’t be interrupted. Unpacking your books and my books onto one shelf together.

“The morning after that first night, when I came back to bed with a cup of coffee for you, I remember thinking that I wanted my entire life to be just like that – going to bed with you and waking up with you and having breakfast with you – that I didn’t need to know anything else about my future – as long as I knew you would be with me, that was enough, all I needed. And I still feel the same way. You’re right, it probably looks a little ridiculous to our friends that we’ve taken this long to make it official. But for me, I promised you the rest of my life that first morning in our first flat. I love you, and I choose you every day. I would choose you again, and I choose you still.”

Albus let go of Gellert’s hands. He opened the box, revealing a thick band – titanium, because of its strength and durability, with inlays of lapis lazuli, dark blue, like Gellert’s eyes, and stone from a meteorite, for reasons Albus feared to name.

“It’s beautiful, Albus. But you still haven’t asked me.”

It seemed absurd to Albus that he had to ask, when Gellert had already asked him.

“Will you wear this ring as a sign that we intend to spend the rest of our lives together?”

Gellert threw his head back and laughed. “You can’t do it! You cannot say the words. Admit it. There was no chance of me seeing this ring before asking you to marry me myself. If I hadn’t asked you by August 1, you would have chosen some other date, prepared some new speech. How long have you had that ring?”

Two years. Albus had been moving the ring from hiding spot to hiding spot for two years.

“It doesn’t make any _sense_ for me to ask a question when _I know the answer already._ How about this: marry me _properly_. _Not_ today, _not_ next week – let’s take enough time to make a production of it – invite everyone. If we’re getting married, I want to show you off. And you bake the cake, yeah? You can take photos of it and add it to your contestant application. You think we could get everything ready by September? Still warm enough out for an outdoor wedding.”

Albus got down on one knee. He held up the ring in one hand and took Gellert’s left hand in his other. “Gellert Grindelwald, will you marry me in a properly tailored suit in an overpriced outdoor wedding venue in front of at least eighty of our dearest friends?”

“Now who’s making elaborate plans?”

“Is that a yes?” Albus asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh yes, absolutely,” Gellert said. “I wouldn’t miss an Albus Dumbledore party for the life of me. Now slip that ring on my finger, get up here and kiss me.”

**Author's Note:**

> _11 months later…_
> 
> “Albus? Wake up, Albus.”
> 
> Gellert? What time was it? Had he fallen asleep on the sofa? He had been re-re-watching Dr. Who episodes, waiting for – “Is it ready, then?”
> 
> “What? No, that pie was a disaster. I started over. But the new one’s in the oven now…” Gellert’s hands were on Albus’ trousers – why was he – ? “It won't be coming out for at least another forty-five minutes, so I thought –”
> 
> “God, yes. Yes,” Albus answered, lifting his hips so that Gellert could pull his trousers and pants down and off. 
> 
> Albus had never been so grateful for hot water crust pastry in all his life. They hadn’t had sex in two weeks – Gellert had done nothing but work and bake and sleep… The prior weekend had been biscuit week, so none of Gellert’s bakes had been in the oven longer than twenty minutes – most less than ten – and he had mostly used that time to decorate biscuits from previous batches.
> 
> “Ungh. It’s been _so long_ –“ Albus moaned as Gellert teased his cock with his fingertips.
> 
> “Mmm, yes –“ Gellert answered, kissing Albus. “Anything, anything you want. You’ve been so patient.”
> 
>  _“Anything?”_ Albus asked, incredulous. That was – surprisingly undemanding.
> 
> Gellert paused to consider. “Anything so long as you go down on me at some point.”
> 
> There it was. Albus smiled. “No question. I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”


End file.
